


A Warrior's Manifesto

by Forgotten_Logic



Category: Transformers
Genre: Betrayal, Megatron with his anger issues, Political murder, Pre-War, Society got it wrong, War, dark themes, diverging values, hostages, technical betrayal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 07:59:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13359990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forgotten_Logic/pseuds/Forgotten_Logic
Summary: The winds of revolution and war are stirring.





	A Warrior's Manifesto

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raspberry_Omega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raspberry_Omega/gifts).



> lol I made this for a class assignment. It is also technically part of the [Long Since](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11394030) story. It comes later in the timeline but doesn't give any spoilers to what happens over in the other story.
> 
> For Omega, who has been nothing but an awesome person and who has been nothing but helpful and supportive! <3 :3 I hope you enjoy! (I'm working on that OP/Night thing at the moment, it should be done soon.)

The worst part about having your back stabbed is that you knew they were back there the entire time. Within moments, he knew war was coming and that it would be from his hand to light the perpetual fire of war. 

From that orn on, Orion Pax would no longer be anything but an Energon splatter on his flight shield. Orion Pax would never be trusted, not with his thoughts, not with his beliefs, and never again with his spark. Megatron from then on would be as he always was, as he was designed to be; a weapon now to decimate the enemy and liberate his people from the monstrosity that had consumed the Senate. And those who held Primacy. 

With his once civil hands turned to daggers he went about what others of any name other than Decepticons would call dirty. The senators' of his determination needed to cease to function. For his movement to gain momentum was to stray from what was the original path: the destruction of the insulating plague that the Senate arose within their society, all but closeted from the Galactic Council and its sanctions, which left the Cybertronian Senate to fiddle with society and fluster the commonwealth into poverty. 

When the gladiator strode into a special place in the Underbelly, those senators knew that their time was coming to a close, for their cruelty, for their indecency; all they had left was martyrdom. Not that they had a cause that many would willingly follow without guilt; treachery is as deadly a sin as murder. If only for these treacherous sparks had known that, or perhaps they had, they would be shown mercy. 

He was considered a murderer, all for the enjoyment of the Senate and all those who paid to see the slaughter of a fellow mecha. For all that they had caused him, his goals were clear and they would be met, beginning with their inner Energon as the mark of the true beginning of rebellion; those senators would never be able to fight back. There time of tyranny and anguish against common mecha all around would be done, starting with their spilt Energon. They would be made an example of and all who followed. 

Megatron’s pedes continued to stomp, without hesitance, without a shred of fear, into the senators holding chamber. They would die this orn and there would be no one to stop the great mech; he would see to it that he becomes a martyr before he would ever fall willingly, that orn of martyrdom would not be the one before him. The hard screech of metal against metal echoed through the hall, dark and stained with Energon; a former arena for other gladiators, it was yet another place for mecha like him -- who were like him to die. The thumping of his pedes clanked, rousing his prisoner's, shackles being tugged with no give was the only sound that Megatron was graced with. 

Mecha, those that Megatron had seen in the light, was what looked to be from a whole different state; clean paint, clear optics, but even the former gladiator could tell with his field touching his prisoner’s, there was fear. He could practically taste it in the room. Along with rust that was around the bars that held his captured prey, all only waiting now for their moment of death. A moment that would not come quickly; quick deaths were for honorable mecha, these were not. 

Megatron by very virtue was an honorable mech, even by comparison. He killed when necessary, protected where applicable, and stole when vital, he was not an evil mech. Although what was about to incur was the planned assassination of four senators would not be seen as honorable, he would be a hero to a people that were in desperate need for the liberation of oppressive fools. 

He scraped his claws against the bars as he passed, closer to shivering prey, following the cackling chains. Their laughter grew louder with each step, as did their knowledge of fate: markers of revolution.   
Once he stopped, the chains still giggled against frames, walls—becoming the only sound within the chambers. Megatron barely turned his helm to peer through the rusted bars. Just as it would sound, a shivering frame, not quite petrified with fear. “What a pity,” Megatron said while he turned back, staring down at the end of the corridor. “All the fighting for your life and yet, you fear. Your loss of power, of protection.” He looked at his claws, and how the rust had stained them crimson in streaks. “And yet, you feel that you are still above all who have served you; why? We are all but children of Primus–” waving his servo flippantly “–and yet the commonwealth have been treated as a stepping stone.”

The air had begun to burn with something yet unspoken. “Did you four believe that there was no mecha that would see your treachery? There is no honor in the Senate since Nova took Primacy; all there has been is the slaughtering people—my people and those outside of the Galactic Councils jurisdiction,” his voice boomed, the chains had grown hysteric in their chorus of laughter. 

“You've lost your nerve.” His dark azure optics traced the ground, to each prisoner; only one had continued his struggle and it showed on his wrists, where the rusted chains bit into the metal, protoform deep. “And yet, even in the midst of what is to come, you try and fight change, a very foolish thing to do.” Megatron grasped a set of bars and flung the cage open, ripping the rusted connections from the hard cybermatter; it fell with a discordant chime. 

The golden plating screamed shut all the while stained chains cackled at the fear. Megatron stepped through the opening, dim light bounced off the dingy silver gladiator, still adorning a miner’s colors; with the illumination, fear rattled his gold plating. Megatron purposefully stepped slowly toward the senator, the terror in sky-white optics grew. 

Mere lengths away, the gladiator hoisted his golden slaughter by his chest’s kibble. “Resistance against a higher power most always fails to prevail.” Claws scraped against the plating, shoving passed the simple gold exterior until the mech was screaming in a binary shriek. Megatron dragged down to the senator’s torso, Energon oozing out in clumps from the four distinct claw insertions. The chains held their chorus of laughter, azure optics came unbearably close to the senator, whose voice had given away to his cries. “You resistance against me has failed.” To the other mecha, the stomach-turning clatter of the frame hitting the ground, sounding unbelievably hollow, gone silent. It was their turn.

**Author's Note:**

> *Randomly dances into the frame* HEYYYYY, you made it to the end! Now, it's time to take a nap. I hope this was enjoyable. :) I'll about getting another chapter for this and Long Since out soon. And like, everything else now. lol


End file.
